The Vision (18 page)

chapter 29

On Friday Zander was still absent and I began to unclench. Just a little. I didn't think he would hurt me, but I wasn't positive. Half of me hoped I'd never see him again, but the other half knew I had to. Otherwise, I'd worry forever about when he'd show up next.

But that didn't mean I was eager to face him.

“Still avoiding Zander?” Liv asked when I insisted we take the back stairs to chem.

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “I haven't seen him for days. Looks like he's avoiding you, too.”

I found myself looking over my shoulder everywhere. On my walks home, waiting for the bus to work, even at the apartment, sure he'd appear when I was least ready for it. Which, in truth, was always. I didn't think I'd ever be ready.

I was walking down the stairs toward the cafeteria, mindful of the blind corner to my left and the bathroom door ahead, when I noticed Nick Altos ahead of me.

“Nick!” I called.

He turned, smiled. “Hey, Cassie.”

I caught up and we walked side by side toward the lunchroom.

“I've been thinking about you,” I told him. “How are you?”

“Dealing,” he said. “A little better every day.”

I nodded.

“It never goes away, though, does it?” Nick already knew the answer so I didn't hesitate to confirm it.

“No, not totally.”

“But you learn to live with it,” he said. “Live
through
it, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, feeling the pang of Nan's absence in the center of my body, not where my heart is exactly, more where I imagined the core of my being existed. Where it was always raw and, I suspected, always would be.

People can learn to live with a lot. Nan had been old, Nick's father had made mistakes, but that boy—the image of his mother holding his face in the food court as if everything around them evaporated when she looked at her only son. The more I pictured it, the more certain I was that I'd done the right thing, that her sadness might have been too huge to get past.

“Hey, Nick?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you think your dad would have done if he'd had more time?” It was a brazen question, but I could see Nick had enough emotional scar tissue and trusted me enough that I could ask it.

“Truthfully? It's probably fifty-fifty. I'd like to believe he'd have stayed clean, kept his job, been a productive member of society, you know? That's how I'm going to try to think of him: go-karting at Lakeland Park instead of the times I found him passed out on the sofa or screaming at my mom when he came to pick me up wasted and she wouldn't let me go.” Nick shook his head, his smile forced. “Doesn't sound like I'm doing a very good job of it so far, does it?”

“It's pretty hard to get your feelings sorted out, much less your memories,” I said. “They just come as they come.”

“Right.” Nick passed a hand across his brow. “But honestly, with my dad? It's probably just as likely he'd have been back to drinking by the end of the year. Out of work, on welfare, or worse. History would tell me that's the truth.” We'd reached the cafeteria and Nick stopped, clearly not wanting to continue this conversation in the crowd. “But I'm going to try to believe what I want to believe. There's no harm in that, right?”

“None at all.”

He nodded and waved to a friend. “I'm going to go catch up with Adam. See ya around?”

“Yeah, see ya.”

He was there when I left school, waiting outside the doorway I'd been going out the last few days. The one opposite from where he usually parked. Obviously he'd been watching.

“Get in,” Zander called through the open passenger window.

Was he crazy? “No thanks,” I called, walking faster. Though every bit of my body screamed at me to run, I fought it. Don't show the predator your fear, right?

I heard his car door slam shut behind me and I turned to face him, folding my arms across my chest.

“You can't avoid me forever, Cassie.”

“You're the one who's been avoiding
me,
Zander. I've been at school every day. Haven't seen you there.”

“I've been busy.”

“At the escort service?”

He smiled. “I like a girl with a sense of humor. Yes, as it happens. And other things.”

“You didn't do anything to that boy, did you?” It had occurred to me later, after I'd watched him and his mother walk away with no idea who they were or where they lived, that Zander might keep after him, do something that would leave him fucked up. It had also occurred to me that maybe that's what happened to Demetria, what was wrong with her. “The mark left him, you know,” I said. “Right there at the mall. It's not his time anymore. I would have told you, but …”

Zander held his hand up wearily. “No, Cassie, I didn't go after your little boy. He's fine.”

I was careful to hide my relief, wary of showing Zander how important it was to me. Instead, I asked the other thing that had been weighing on me, “How did you find me, Zander?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned. “I waited outside school. It's become pretty obvious to me that this is where you go during the day.”

“No, I don't mean today. I mean, how did you know I was like you?” It was the one thing I hadn't gotten to ask. And one I thought I might need to know in case things with Zander were beyond repair, which seemed pretty likely.

“I sensed you,” he said. “You know … the way we do.”

“No, I don't know. I didn't sense
you
.”

“Maybe you just didn't recognize it,” he said.

Very possible. “What's it like, this sensing?”

“Like anticipation,” Zander said immediately, his eyes gleaming. “A prickle of fear or excitement. My heart speeds up, feels like it's beating harder, there's a nervous, tingly feeling, kind of like …” He paused, looking for words.

I thought about the way I'd always felt around him, the magnetic attraction. So powerful. Liv had called him “smokin' hot” so I'd assumed he just had that effect on everyone. “Like being in love?” I said.

The gleam disappeared and he stared at me so hard I wished I could yank the words back into my throat. I thought about maybe offering lust or infatuation instead, but decided just to shut up.

“I wouldn't know,” he said finally. “I've never been.”

It's a good thing I was over him—mostly—or that might have really stung. Not that I'd have expected him to say he was in love with me or anything, but I wouldn't have expected such a flat, cold denial either.

“Anyway,” Zander moved on, “like I was saying before, I've been busy. Attending to others. Maybe the ones you doomed when you decided to save your little boy. Would you like to hear about them?”

“No.”

“Let's see,” he continued as if I hadn't spoken. “There was the lady at the supermarket. I'm pretty sure she was a mommy, saw a carseat in the back of her minivan. Didn't get that one quite right, I don't think.” He shrugged ruefully. “What can you do? Then there was that girl at the park—”

“Stop.”

Zander was nodding. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure I nailed that one. The feeling was very strong with her.”

“Stop it,” I said louder, not even realizing I'd grabbed his arm until he removed my hand, squeezing my wrist in a way that made my fingers numb.

“Oh? You don't want to hear about it? You were so very curious when we first met.”

I felt faint and nauseated, but spoke as firmly as I could. “Well, I'm not curious now. I've learned all I need to about you, Zander.”

“You think so?” His words were casual, but his voice a notch higher than usual, betraying strain and anger, barely hidden. “We're not finished, Cassie. We're meant to be together. I'll give you a little time. I can see you're still working through some things. But you need me. You might think you don't, but you're wrong.”

“I have to go,” I said, unable to keep my words from shaking. Just a little, but I knew Zander noticed.

I turned and started walking. Quickly. Hoping he wouldn't follow.

He didn't. Not physically, though I felt him as if he were just behind me, watching. As if he'd always be watching. I wasn't sure I'd ever be rid of him. I didn't need him, but he needed me. And I wasn't sure he'd ever really let me go.

chapter 30

I went to the funeral home, mostly because that's where my feet took me. My brain wasn't capable of thought after dealing with Zander. It just followed the preprogrammed path to my assigned shift.

In the storeroom, I went to work: slicing open the boxes, stacking package after package, crushing down the cardboard for pickup. After four of them my hands stopped shaking.

Meant to be together. That's what Zander had said about us. As much as it scared me, there was a strange part of me that actually still wanted it. Badly. Thinking about him, the heat of him close to me, still made me flush with … anticipation, as he'd called it. It would be something special, the ability to share this secret and have the partner that I'd always hoped for. We were a perfect fit: I have a power, he has a power.

But together we are deadly. Literally.

I kept thinking about the way he'd looked when we saw the boy at the mall, when I gave him what he needed to fulfill his role. But he never seemed that interested in helping me fulfill mine. He'd said it was my job to decide when to warn someone, but when I had, he'd been furious.

A real partner would have talked me through the arguments for and against.

A real partner would have listened to my reasons for warning the boy.

My instincts had been right all along. Zander was playing me. But in a way I could never have expected.

I was definitely going to have to go it alone.

I finished the last of the unpacking, crushed down the final box, and closed up the supply room. Glancing out the sidelight windows in the vestibule, I could see the sky had dimmed: dusk but with the purple gray of a snow sky. Another six to twelve inches was predicted tonight, which meant that Petra would likely get stuck at the hospital and I'd better get going before it got ugly. Not that I would get trapped here, but the buses were always late in bad weather and, though I loved the snow, I didn't want to walk all the way home in it.

I crossed to the locker room to drop off Ryan's books. He hadn't been here any of my last few shifts. Or called or texted or left any notes. All of which spoke volumes. I knew I hadn't made it clear enough that I was only looking for friendship with him. It hadn't been clear to
me
until I realized I'd been making him my stand-in for Jack. The guy who was safe. Who cared. The guy I'd known all along Zander
wasn't
: the nice guy. But I'd messed up twice because Ryan wasn't Jack and Jack wasn't mine. Not anymore. Not after I'd lied because the truth was too hard. Too scary. I hadn't given him a chance to show me he could take it. Just like Nan had never given me that chance.

But Ryan? He had nothing to do with any of it. I hoped it wasn't too late to let him be just Ryan instead of pseudo-Jack.

I scribbled a note:

Ryan—

Thanks again for the loan. I liked them so much I bought some of my own. I'm reading the section on Hinduism now. Maybe we can hit up a few temples when I'm done or at least go out for Indian some night. I'm sorry I wasn't up front about Zander, you deserve more. I'd like to make it up to you. Friends?

Cassie

It was easier to ask him this way and I did want us to be friends. But I knew how it felt to have your hopes and expectations squashed. I'd have to leave our future up to him.

The snow had started by the time I bundled into my coat, scarf, hat, and gloves. It was still the lightest flakes, like dust, nothingness as soon as it hit the sidewalk.

But by the time I got off the bus the flakes were chunkier, a first layer coating the ground. My footprints followed me the block and a half to the apartment.

I kept my head down most of the way, tucking my nose into the wet warmth of the knit scarf, passing building after building, their insides lit in a way that made me long for my fleece socks and flannel pants.

It wasn't as cold as during my vigil for Jackson Kennit. Looking back, it seems obvious that even then—before I had confirmation that there were others—I'd believed. Maybe even as early as when I'd read the letter's translation or before, when Petra had read me my mother's files, the name Lachesis like an arrow hitting a dead-center bull's-eye.

Realizing that, I felt a little like I'd been running in circles with all my questioning and searching. But I think what I've actually learned is that the only thing that matters is that I have this ability. Nothing more.

I'd hoped there would be guidelines to work within, rules, others who could help me. I'd leaned on the idea of finding out whether saving one dooms another. Crutches, I knew now. All of them crutches.

Mr. Ludwig had said what happens to one affects others—in some ways good, in some ways bad. Just like the Chicago fire. Or, a far less dramatic example, Liv's dad losing his job and her finding a niche at TREND, enough that she'd started looking at college business programs. Her parents were thrilled, though a definite maybe was all she'd admit to. Opportunity from misfortune. Gain from loss. It's part of life, not just the work of the Fates.

Maybe that's why Nan decided to turn her back on the mark and let the chips fall where they may. It was tempting to ignore that people were about to die, learn to be less human, as Zander had advised. But when I pictured the kid at the mall or the twelve marked elementary school kids I'd seen when I was four, I didn't think I could. How Nan had walked away from them, I couldn't imagine. I didn't want to be that cold. I wanted more, even if it hurt.

There were no right answers. The only rules and guidelines I could live with were mine. My own moral code, not Zander's, not something set up by people who lived a gazillion years ago.

That's what I can take on faith.

That's what I'm learning to believe in.

Me.

I paused a few feet from our door, snow swirling around me, landing on my scarf and hat and eyelashes as I fished in my bag for keys.

I didn't see the shadowy movement inside until I had the key in the lock, a figure in the dim corner of the hall, facing me. My throat constricted. Zander. And he'd already seen me. It was too late to escape.

I gritted my teeth and opened the door, aware that the only other person on the street was far down the block. Zander had already had his chance to hurt me, but what if he'd reconsidered? I doubted it. He needed me. He was probably just here to talk. Again.

But it wasn't Zander.

My heart felt like it stopped. I couldn't believe it was really him. I was terrified to take another step, afraid that he'd shimmer like a mirage and disappear. But he was still there, solid and real, when I reached him, tears already in my eyes.

“I'm so glad you're here,” I whispered, allowing him to fold me silently into his arms.

“I miss you too,” Jack said.

That was all it took to start me crying, the relief of seeing him uncorking all the feelings I'd worked so hard to keep bottled up since leaving and, truthfully, even before.

He held me for a minute or two, then slid his hands gently to my shoulders, pulling back to arm's length to look into my eyes. “My mom's here, too, back at the hotel. She's worried about you and wanted to come, but she understood I needed to see you myself first.”

I nodded, the tears still coming, faster than I could wipe them. Jack reached up, brushed away the freshest ones. His touch was so tender, just like the night I'd stayed with him.

“I thought … when I called and you …”

Jack bit his lip, looked down. He shoved his hands into his pockets, broad shoulders hunching together. “I was angry, Cass. I still am. It'd be a lie to pretend I'm not.”

I nodded, my heart feeling like it was being twisted slowly, around and around.

“But that's not the only thing I feel. And a lot of the other stuff is good. Or could be.” He lifted his head, meeting my eyes again. Jack hesitated, maybe afraid to ask or wondering if it was even worth it, then said quietly, “Will you come home?”

I wasn't sure if he was asking me if I'd go back to Ashville someday or if he was asking me to go back now. With him. Either way, my answer was the same. “Yes.”

He blinked, surprised maybe at how easy that had been, things having not been easy with me most of the times he'd tried. “What have you been doing out here, Cass?”

“Finding myself.” Cliché, but utterly true.

“And? Did you?”

I nodded.

He smiled gently, reached up to push a stray wisp of hair from my face; his touch, his gaze, everything about him so different from Zander. Honest, open, sincere. It made him no less magnetic. I could feel the electricity between us, a heat that melds things together rather than blows them apart. The tension of our closeness was the same as the day we'd first kissed in the preserve.

“Jack …” I wasn't sure how I was going to say it, but somehow I needed to know. Not how he felt about me. His being here, having flown all this way, waiting on my doorstep, the look in his eyes—it all told me that.

I needed confirmation of the thing I'd always wondered. If I could tell. Because I needed to. Maybe not right now, but definitely someday.

He stared down at me, his eyes soft though his face was serious, still hurt by how I'd left. Erasing that would take time. “Yeah?”

But there was no way to ask.

What question is there that will get you the real answer to whether you can share the weirdest, scariest, most secret thing about yourself ? You have to just know. Have faith.

Standing there with him—remembering the way we'd sat side by side in his living room, both of us teary watching
Bambi
, or how, when we were ten, he'd secretly slip the dollar he'd won from me at poker into my backpack, thinking I needed it, or the way he'd held me after Nan had died, not caring what his girlfriend or anyone else in the world might think if they saw us together like that—flipping through our memories and years, I knew.

I took a deep breath, understanding there was no taking it back and sure—positive, actually—that I wouldn't want to. That with Jack, I wouldn't ever have to.

“Come upstairs with me,” I said, slipping my hand in his, feeling the warmth of him, familiar, secure, but still thrilling. Maybe more so because of it. “There's so much I want to tell you.”